


Between a Rock and a Dragon

by mdseiran



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crack, Gen, Hobbit Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:01:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdseiran/pseuds/mdseiran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not even in his wildest dreams has Thorin imagined an attack from a dragon would turn out this way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between a Rock and a Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this kink meme prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/2235.html?thread=3241147#t3241147):  
>  _AU where there is no monstrous door into Erebor. Smaug attacks Dale, swoops in to steal all the Dwarves, and gets stuck in the door. The dwarves can't get out and Smaug can't get free (and all his soft bits are not exposed). Once Smaug stops spitting fire and everything calms down cue the most delicate awkward negotiations in Middle Earth's history._  
> 
> _Bonus points for intelligent snarky Smaug_  
> 
> _Mega bonus for Thranduil showing up with his army and being highly amused at the ridiculous drama his neighbours have got themselves into and the elves doing the elvish equivalent of settling down with popcorn to watch._
> 
> Thanks to Lyn for putting up with me as always and beta-ing this. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Tendrils of fire sneak through the gap as the door shakes on its hinges. Fear is thick as smoke in the air, but the dwarves hold firm, bolstered by the sight of their prince standing before them. "Be steadfast!" Thorin roars, "hold the line!" And then a blast of fire shatters the gate to their kingdom.

Part of the ceiling collapses on them and the dwarves scatter, some not making it in time. The flames are everywhere, making it hard to see anything. Thorin grits his teeth and finds his footing with the help of his sword. "To me!" He notices Balin to his right, moving to stand behind Thorin with two others, and feels the briefest flash of relief.

The dwarves rally quickly, swords and axes ready to sink into the drake's hide. Smaug roars and another wave of flames rolls onwards. But his aim is off, and the flames are easily dodged. Smoke fills the air and their lungs and they desperately try to keep their vision clear, to see the attack when it comes.

But Smaug doesn't move.

There is a loud hissing sound that makes Thorin raise his head just a bit, and when his hair isn't instantly singed he takes a tentative step forwards. Another, and another, slowly and quietly approaching the door. A strong hand tries to drag his arm but he shakes it off and keeps moving. If nothing else, maybe he can catch the dragon unaware. Maybe he can finish this quickly before it descends into tragedy.

What he sees stays forever burned in his memory.

* * *

"We seem to have a bit of a situation here," Smaug remarks, and Thorin grins, a toothy grin promising all sorts of fun. For him, not so much for Smaug.

"Let me help you out of it then," Thorin says, and with a roar he launches himself towards the drake, aiming his sword at the expanse of his neck.

The dragon lifts his head and almost lazily swats Thorin away, following it up with a breath of fire that Thorin only narrowly avoids. Undeterred, he launches himself at Smaug again, intentionally letting himself drop when Smaug's head starts swinging his way, and sliding along the dust-riddled floor towards the beast.

The blade sinks in cleanly but shallowly. Thorin snarls and pushes against it, but pretty soon it is lodged and won't budge at all, not even when he tries to pull it back out. Smaug doesn't make a sound, but Thorin is thrown back against the wall and lands hard on the floor, the crash of his armor echoing through the silent halls of the mountain.

"I'll let that go for now, princeling," he says menacingly. Thorin's arms shake a little as he hefts himself up and grasps his sword. "I won't be so gentle next time. Now, I suggest we calm down and discuss this reasonably."

The smoke has cleared around them, and Thorin watches the dragon as he catches his breath.

"By all means," he finally says, a grin curling his lips, "let us discuss how we can best remove your fat behind from our front door."

* * *

Apparently, it's not quite as simple as that.

Unfortunately for Smaug, the dwarves of the Lonely Mountain truly were magnificent craftsmen. Their door had been painstakingly built and reinforced over the years, each craftsman adding to the strength and beauty of the door as well as the rock at each side of it. Smaug, in true dragon fashion, had launched himself at the door, trusting it would crumble before him as all doors inevitably did. And it had -- the dragon had shattered the door and launched himself through the opening. But the rock in which the door was built, their foundation, their last defense, remained standing.

This left Smaug with his head and neck stuck with the dwarves, and his back end facing Dale, with all the areas Thorin would like to poke with his sword protected by the same rock that stopped his progress. 

Thorin supposes that if they get through this, he might find the irony amusing. 

"We will not go digging into the rock, beast." Thrain stands before the dragon and speaks calmly, almost as if he is just addressing another emissary come to negotiate a trade agreement.

"I'm sorry, did I get myself stuck with elves?" Thorin growls, but Smaug ignores him. "I thought that was all you dwarves did."

"Be that as it may, we will not make the doorway bigger." Thorin had to admire the way his father was handling the situation. But then, Thrain had always been much more diplomatic. Unlike his grandfather, who was standing at the inner gate with the Arkenstone clasped between his hands. And Thorin didn't miss the way Smaug's eyes lingered on it either. He wished his grandfather didn't feel the need to flaunt it so.

The dragon made a sound resembling a sigh, followed by the sound of something heavy settling. "Then I suppose we'll be stuck with each other's company for a while. I do hope you're a hospitable sort," he adds with a smile. "I'm quite famished actually."

"You dare insult us!" Thror shouts, sword pointing at the dragon. "Insult me, Divine King Under the Mountain!" Smaug regards him with half-lidded eyes. "Archers! Aim for his eyes!"

Thorin stares as the two archers standing by the king lift their bows and aim their arrows at Smaug. He watches as the arrows sail through the air, their aim true. And then something tackles him and he goes down right before the hallway fills with fire and the dragon's rage.

Thrain mutters under his breath as they both stagger towards the hastily evacuated entrance. "I suppose that concludes day one of negotiations."

* * *

It's not that Thorin doesn't trust anyone else to guard Smaug, truly. There are five dwarves standing guard at the inner gate around the clock, and Thorin knows all of them to be more than capable. It's more that he fears for a repeat of that first day and would like to be on hand to interfere if necessary. Even if that means spending an excruciating amount of time listening to Smaug.

And Smaug seems unusually talkative when Thorin is around.

"Your miners have worked quite hard today." Smaug's reptilian smile set Thorin's teeth on edge. "Has your king counted it all yet?"

The guards look uneasy when he strides towards the dragon. "What's it to you, beast?" 

"I'm attempting to show interest in your boring, tiny lives," and amusement makes those yellow eyes glow, "isn't that what a polite house guest does?"

Thorin grabs the handle of his axe and swings it downwards, embedding it in the ground and resting his hands over the top. "You are neither of those things."

Smaug sighs. "I think I'm hurt," he remarks, "I thought we were starting to become friends. Why, I haven't even insulted your lineage for days."

"Friends? Do not insult my intelligence," Thorin snarls.

The dragon lifts his head and stares down at Thorin. "If we are not friends, son of Thrain, then we are enemies." He pauses, and Thorin feels the weight of his menace as a physical force. "If I were you, I wouldn't want to be my enemy."

* * *

Eleven days after a dragon pays them a visit, a fine arrow comes sailing through one of the upper balconies. Thorin is called for, and he instantly knows the arrow is of elven make, and also, that there's a slip of parchment attached to it. He dislodges the paper carefully and unrolls it.

> _Greetings and salutations to the House of Durin,_
> 
> _May the Valar watch over you in these trying times._
> 
> _The Woodland Realm would offer its assistance to the King Under the Mountain, if only the King would inform us of his needs._
> 
> _Thranduil, Elvenking of the Woodland Realm_

What Thorin really needs right now is to feed that pompous elf to the thorn stuck in their doorway. He can just glimpse Thranduil and his followers, standing on the mountain ridge, and he can all too easily imagine their amusement. How good they must feel, offering help when they know full well the dwarves have no way to ask for it, not when their exit is closed and their arrows, shot by unmagical dwarves as they are, could never deliver any message.

Thorin crumples the parchment in his hand and whirls around. An arrow whistles by his ear, piercing the wall to his right. He almost rips the second letter in half when he grabs it.

> _We understand there could be some difficulty with communication, and would suggest the House of Durin ask their new guest for help._
> 
> _Perhaps the dragon can wag his tail once to indicate that you need sustenance, and twice to indicate the need for more digging tools?_

Thorin roars his rage to the sky.

* * *

When the wizard arrives, it is on the back of a giant eagle.

Thorin has heard stories about Gandalf the Grey from his father and grandfather ever since he was little, but he hasn't ever seen him until now. His first thought is that Gandalf doesn't look much like a wizard. His second thought, more unflattering, is that if he is a wizard, he seems old enough that merely Smaug breathing on him might bring about his doom.

But wizard or not, Gandalf's eagle comes laden with provisions for the dwarves, and Thorin is grateful for that at least. Thrain had ordered that their reserves of food be rationed strictly from the start, and it had been a wise decision despite the grumbling it had caused. 

Thorin had always been rather taken with his grandfather and his heroic tales, but the incident with Smaug was breeding an admiration for his father in him.

Gandalf spends hours locked up with Thror and Thrain while Thorin arranges for the food to be sorted and stored. His eyes keep being drawn to the eagle, and he wonders if he should arrange for some food or drink for it. But the eagle seems happy where it is, and Thorin decides not to bother it. They don't need another angry creature on their hands.

"Ah, I see you've made Ereria's acquaintance," he hears from behind, and he turns and stares up, up into clear blue eyes. "Thank you, my boy."

Thorin remains quiet as Gandalf walks over to the eagle - Ereria - and strokes her wings while murmuring something. Ereria bows her head and beats her wings once, twice, and launches herself in the air. "Now then," Gandalf says as he turns back to Thorin, "perhaps you would be so kind as to show an old wizard to a room?"

"You will be staying to help us, then?" Thorin asks as he leads them off the balcony, not quite able to keep the hope out of his voice.

Gandalf chuckles. "Well, I'll certainly try. I have to say, this is quite an unusual predicament you find yourselves in. Quite amusing, as well." His eyes twinkle a little. Thorin would like to take offense, but it wouldn't do to alienate the wizard now.

And besides, he does have a point.

"What do you propose to do? I imagine it would be quite easy for you to slay the dragon."

The eyes stop twinkling. "Killing is not always the first and best solution, young Thorin," he reproaches, and Thorin has to fight to not lower his head. "I think we will first try some conversation."

Thorin is sure Smaug will just love that.

* * *

Their first meeting causes a hush to fall over the dwarves gathered in the room.

It is awe-inspiring, to say the least. Here they are, two forces who could easily level their entire home by themselves should they wish to, and Thorin knows one of them would like nothing more. Gandalf stands in front of Smaug, leaning slightly on his staff -- whether it is for support or for ease of using it to burn Smaug to ash, Thorin isn't sure.

"I see they have called in the cavalry," Smaug says after a moment of regarding the wizard. 

The wizard smiles. "I am but a single old man. Hardly anything to fear." The dragon looks amused. "However, seeing as I am an unbiased party in this conflict, I shall act as intermediary."

Smaug inclines his head. "By all means. I do hope you'll be a bit more agreeable. There is simply no reasoning with these dwarves."

Thorin steps forward with a growl. "We should not have to reason with the likes of you, rukhsul menu!"

Something blunt and heavy collides with the back of his head and he almost falls. Gandalf is standing next to him, looking extremely angry and possibly bigger than before. "You will hold your tongue, Thorin, son of Thrain, or so help me I will stick it to your nose!"

Chastened (and maybe a little scared), Thorin bows his head in apology to Gandalf, and throws a dirty look at the amused dragon.

"Now then," Gandalf says, smiling benignly as if nothing untoward had happened, "where were we?"

* * *

"When I was younger," Thrain began, "there was a dispute between us and the elves. We'd spent three weeks arguing and fighting, neither side gaining any ground." Thorin could easily imagine that. "Gandalf showed up during one of the many battles, and he stopped it with a single blow from his staff." 

He chuckled. "We were all in awe of his power, and more defensive for it. We thought we had lost, and that he would side with the dwarves. But that was when he revealed his true powers." He clapped Thorin on the shoulder and gave him a fond look. "Watch him closely, son, and you will see."

And Thorin does see, with complete clarity, who taught his father the art of diplomacy. For an art it is, as subtle and delicate as metal working or the forging of a sword. 

"I would suggest a trade agreement, of sorts."

Smaug looks intrigued.

"The dwarves of Erebor will help release you, and give you one twentieth of the gold in their vaults. In exch-"

"No!" Thror shouts, ignoring both Gandalf's glare and Thrain's restraining hand on his arm. "The gold is ours, rightfully earned! I will not give any of it up! I would die defending it, first!"

"Would you now?" Gandalf yells, his voice echoing through the hallway with thunder following in its wake. "Would you truly, King Under the Mountain? Can you imagine what would have happened to you and yours had the dragon made it through the gate?"

Thorin can. He remembers the first attack, knows what Dale looks like, what devastation Smaug has caused there. He can imagine seeing his kin slain around him, torn apart or burnt. Can imagine these halls, built with such care, ruined in the wake of the dragon's passage. He sees the line of Durin ended in a single moment, nothing but a distant memory and a cautionary tale for other kingdoms.

No gold is worth that.

"In exchange, you will never attack Erebor or its neighbors again." Thror's shocked eyes stare at him, and part of Thorin feels guilt and remorse. But there's a glint of pride in his father's eyes, and a smile he can't quite understand on Gandalf's face.

All is quiet as Smaug looks down on him, and Thorin meets his gaze. "You surprise me, princeling," he finally says. "One twentieth of the gold in your vaults, and one twentieth of the gold you find every year to keep me away."

Gandalf looks ready to intervene, but Thorin smiles confidently. "One twentieth of the gold in our vaults and one twentieth of our haul every year, and in exchange you leave Erebor and its neighbors alone, and protect us from any of your ilk who might set their sights on us."

"You think I would attack my kin for your sake, dwarf?" There is fire in Smaug's eyes, but it doesn't scare Thorin now.

"I think you can dissuade them from attacking us so you don't have to," he retorts, and Smaug responds with an amused huff.

"I will consider it," is what the dragon finally says, but Thorin knows he's won. Now all that remains is to convince his grandfather that this is for the best. Or perhaps he will simply let Gandalf take care of that, Thorin muses, as he watches the determined set of Gandalf's mouth and sees his grandfather's furious expression.

There's only so much diplomacy he can muster.

* * *

Thorin never asks how Gandalf accomplishes it, but within two days the negotiations are done and both parties have agreed to the terms. All that remains is to remove the dragon from their lives. "Not to worry," Gandalf says as Thorin walks him to the balcony, "I think that will be far easier than originally anticipated." 

The prince raises an eyebrow. "Do you mean to tell me you had the means to remove him all along?"

"Perhaps," Gandalf allows, and Thorin gives him a dirty look. "But there would have been no guarantee that Smaug wouldn't simply try again."

A few months ago, Thorin would have insisted they could have killed him. He stays silent now, and Gandalf beams at him.

"I should be back within the week," he says as he climbs atop his eagle (Thorin can't be sure if it's the same one or not). "I merely need to request the assistance of a friend."

The eagle is gone before Thorin can ask who this friend is.

* * *

The sound of a horn is what first alerts Thorin. He feels a moment of dread as he sprints towards the balcony, and that dread quickly turns to loathing at the sight before him.

The foundation of the balcony shakes as the elks below begin to pull the dragon's tail, the ropes wound around it going taut. Thranduil and his posse are standing some distance away, regal and elegant and supercilious. Bastards, the lot of them, Thorin thinks, snarling at them even though they can't see it. Even living with the dragon as a permanent house guest would have been better than being beholden to Thranduil. Damn Gandalf and his meddling.

He leaves the balcony and runs towards the hallway, calling for guards as he goes. He will honor their deal, but there is no harm in gathering a few warriors, just to make sure Smaug honors it too.

And maybe he'll get lucky, and Smaug will burn the Bastardking to a crisp before he goes.


End file.
